


The Abduction of Psyche

by SuddenlySullen



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alpha Hannibal Lecter, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Hannibal Lecter is the Chesapeake Ripper, M/M, Omega Will Graham, Sleepwalking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-05
Updated: 2020-03-05
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:00:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23031319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SuddenlySullen/pseuds/SuddenlySullen
Summary: The smell overwhelms Hannibal, forcing him to pause and shut his eyes. It smells overwhelmingly of blood. Not the metallic afterthought of blood, but the visceral, bone-deep smell that can only be found at the scene of a slaughter. It sits so heavy in the air that he almost feels like he's drowning in it.
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 11
Kudos: 522
Collections: Wendigo & Stag





	The Abduction of Psyche

The front door thumps against the wall, startling Hannibal from his sleep. He breathes - once, twice. Collects himself and a candlestick from the mantle in his bedroom before making a quiet journey down the stairs. The door is open. Whoever is in his house has made no effort to hide that fact. He rounds the corner to his kitchen, candlestick gripped tightly in one hand. The smell overwhelms him, forcing him to pause and shut his eyes. It smells overwhelmingly of blood. Not the metallic afterthought of blood, but the visceral, bone-deep smell that can only be found at the scene of a slaughter. It sits so heavy in the air that he almost feels like he's drowning in it. 

He's surprised to find Will Graham standing at his counter. He's nude, save for a pair of thin boxer shorts and t-shirt. His feet are blackened from, Hannibal can only assume, the walk over. Hannibal lets his shoulders relax. The candlestick clatters on the counter, but Will doesn't react. 

"Will," Hannibal steps in close and places both hands on Will's arms. Up close, the scent is even thicker. The saliva pools in his mouth, anticipating what he hopes, on some level, is about to come. "Wake up, Will."

When Will's eyes open, they dart around the kitchen. He's frightened, searching for anything to tell him who and where and when he is. 

Hannibal glances at the clock on the oven. "It's three fifteen in the morning. Your name is Will Graham. You are in my house in Baltimore, Maryland." 

A tearless sob wracks through Will. Hannibal can feel it under his hands. "I was in a hotel. Jack had me here late."

"You've been sleepwalking." Hannibal swallows down the saliva that threatens to spill from his mouth. He isn't sure how much longer his head will be able to stay clear. He presses a palm to Will's forehead. It's so hot he almost can't stand to touch. "I believe you are in heat, Will." 

Will nods, shaky but certain. "I was going home in the morning. I was too tired. Too  _ unstable _ . No one wanted me to go tonight."

"And now you are in my kitchen." 

"And now... I am in your kitchen," Will lets out a huff of a laugh. 

"I'd like to offer you clothing, food, and a bath, though I am uncertain how to prioritize those things to most benefit you right now." 

"Ah. Yeah. The, uh, the smell. Sorry. I know it's bad. I usually cover it up with-"

"That awful cologne with the ship on the bottle." 

"Yeah," Will huffs. "With that."

"You have a powerful scent." Hannibal resists the urge to bury his nose in the hair at the base of Will's skull. Instead, he turns just slightly and scents the air.

Will turns to face him. "Powerful is certainly a delicate way to put that I smell like death." 

"Death is powerful, is it not?" Hannibal lets his hands glide down Will's arms before losing the points of contact. His head tilts to one side, enjoying the game they're playing. 

Will rolls his eyes. "Not if you're the one dying." 

"Did you know that musicians are always the most popular the week after they die? Many of the most famous painters in history were entirely unknown prior to their deaths. Van Gogh, for instance." Hannibal licks his lips, watching the way Will's eyebrows quirk as he talks. 

"Somehow I doubt they feel very powerful." 

"Perhaps not," Hannibal concedes. "But does one need to feel powerful in order to be powerful? A dog, for instance, could bite clean through a man's arm. Raise a hand to him, though, and he will cower."

"Power that isn't used is just potential." Will steps forward into Hannibal's space, forcing a fresh wave of his scent into Hannibal's nostrils. Hannibal swallows, counts his breaths. He meets Will's eyes and finds his pupils so dilated that nearly no color is visible in them. "That sounds like something you probably told me. Is it?" 

Hannibal smiles, flashing just the tips of his fangs. "Often we find ourselves taking on the thought process of our friends. It does sound like something I would say, but it is not something I have said." 

Will nods and averts his eyes from Hannibal's mouth. He chews his bottom lip, throat working like he's practicing what it is he wants to say. After a moment, he asks: "Have you taken on my thought process too, Doctor Lecter?" 

One side of Hannibal's mouth quirks up before he can swallow it down. "Not as much, no." 

In one fluid motion, Will leans further into Hannibal's space. Close enough that, were he anyone else, Hannibal might be tempted to shove him back. He inhales deeply, so close that Hannibal can feel the air moving over his scent gland. "What is that you're hiding under your very expensive cologne that definitely doesn't have a ship on the bottle?" 

"What makes you think I'm hiding anything? Perhaps I simply find it discourteous when others scent me without my consent."

"Have I been rude, Doctor Lecter?" Will doesn't move away. Hannibal can feel the warmth of his breath over his neck. 

Hannibal swallows down another pool of saliva. "It would appear that, as always, you are the exception that proves my rules." 

Will shivers, but not from the cold. He looks almost annoyed. "Seems like everyone is making exceptions for me lately." 

"You are exceptional," Hannibal agrees. 

When Will takes a step back Hannibal moves forward to scent his neck, a conscious mirror of what Will had done to him. The heat radiates off of him, warming Hannibal's face. 

"Food first, then," Hannibal says with an air of finality. "Lucky for you that I always keep meals prepared in case we find ourselves traveling. Come. Sit." 

Will pulls a stool up to the counter and sits down with a slight wince. Hannibal can feel the eyes on his back as he heats the stove to warm up some stew. 

"Thank you," Will mumbles when the bowl is pushed in front of him. 

"A simple beef stew, marinated overnight with a sweet Amarone before cooking." 

Will's eyelids flutter and Hannibal doesn't miss the way his thighs press together under the counter. "I'm not sure anything you do is simple, Doctor Lecter." 

"Please, Will. I think we have moved past titles. Hannibal, if you would." 

"Hannibal, then." Will nods and spoons more stew into his mouth. 

Hannibal smiles, then moves past Will to shut the front door. He makes sure to both lock and deadbolt it, lest they be interrupted before he's finished with Will. He stops in the hall bathroom to wash his hands and takes an extra moment to wipe the last of his scent-disguising cologne from his neck and wrists. 

Will visibly shifts on his stool when Hannibal returns to the room. The unmistakable whine that rises from his throat has the hair on the back of Hannibal's neck standing on end. 

"Have you finished eating, Will?" Hannibal asks as he rounds the countertop to see Will's face. 

Will nods. His eyes follow Hannibal as he takes the empty bowl to the sink and quickly washes it. 

"Let's get you into the bath," Hannibal extends a hand to Will. 

When he stands, Will's legs are unstable. He balances with Hannibal's help, clinging to his hand as if he's going to float away without it. Hannibal's chest swells with pride that even Will's unconscious mind drew him to the safety of his home. He takes Will to the master bathroom. If Will asks, he will say it's because the bathtub is more accommodating - and it is. His true motivation, though, is to have Will's scent around him as much as possible. So that even after he has gone, Hannibal can scent him on all of the surfaces in his home. 

Hannibal turns the water on and motions for Will to sit down on the lid of the toilet while the tub fills. Instead, Will takes a calculated step directly into Hannibal's space and rests his head on Hannibal's shoulder. His face presses into the side of Hannibal's neck, allowing Hannibal to feel when his breath hitches at the change in scent there. 

"Hannibal," Will whines. "You smell…" 

"Powerful?" The question comes out a low growl. 

"Familiar," Will answers. He swallows reflexively before he continues. "Like flowers and cocoa and something else." 

Hannibal relaxes slightly, bringing an arm around Will's shoulders to pet at the back of his hair. "Into the bath with you," he says quietly. 

Will nuzzles at the scent glands in Hannibal's neck before he pulls away. He strips off the last of his clothing and lowers himself into the bathtub with a satisfied hiss. The dirt from his feet darkens the water almost immediately. Hannibal sits down on the rim of the tub. He removes his own shirt before reaching into the water and picking up one of Will's dirty feet. He massages gently with a washcloth, easing the dirt from Will's body. Will's eyes stay locked on his every movement, breath hitching audibly in his chest. 

"Has no one ever helped you through a heat before, Will?" Hannibal's voice is soft, non-judgemental. He doesn't want to offend Will, but he is burning with curiosity. 

Will inhales sharply. "I don't date alphas." 

"That is not what I asked you, Will," Hannibal finishes cleaning the foot in his hand and sets it softly back in the water before picking up the other and setting to work on it. "One doesn't need to be an alpha to help an omega in heat. Nothing I have done tonight has related to my biology." 

"No," Will sighs. "It hasn't. I prefer to be at home. Alone." 

"Why subject yourself to unnecessary suffering?" Hannibal finishes the foot in his hand, then drains the clouded water before refilling the tub. He slides along the rim of the tub to work water into Will's hair. 

"Better physical pain than indignity." Will's eyes look into Hannibal's like he can see right through him. "Something tells me you might be able to relate." 

Hannibal hums his agreement, working an unscented shampoo into Will's curls. "Does this feel undignified?" 

"No," Will sighs before he closes his eyes to allow Hannibal to rinse his hair. 

Hannibal smiles, showing just the tips of his sharp canines. When the shampoo is all out of Will's hair, he pulls the drain plug and offers Will one of his own bathrobes. Will takes it and puts it over his shoulders, curling into it and inhaling the smell of Hannibal on it. 

"Now what?" Will looks up at Hannibal from under his wet bangs. 

"Now whatever you want. I am more than willing to assist you through the rest of your heat if that is what you would like. Should you want to go home, I will ensure that you get there." 

"I don't think I want to go home. I don't want you to see me like that either." Will chews at his lip. "What do you want?"

"I want you safe, Will. Given that you walked yourself here in your sleep tonight, I don't think sending you home would be safe." 

Will nods. "You're probably right. I'm sorry. You shouldn't have to deal with this."

"Will," Hannibal snaps. He brings one hand to grip the back of Will's neck. "This is not a bother."

Will almost melts under his hand. "Don't claim me. I'll kill you. I fucking swear, Hannibal." 

The threat sends heat straight to Hannibal's groin. He has no desire to mark Will against his will, but there is a distinct temptation to see him make good on his threat. He presses a gentle kiss to Will's forehead. "You have my word."

There is a visible loosening of Will's shoulders as the last of his resolve drips away. He moves forward to scent Hannibal again, this time mouthing over the scent gland on his neck. A low rumble moves through Hannibal's chest. He picks up Will's hand and lifts it to his mouth. He presses open mouthed kisses to the inside of Will's wrist, licks at the glands there. Will mewls in response, crowding in as close to Hannibal as he can get. Hannibal's head starts to spin now that he finally has permission to act on all the things he's been wanting to do with Will so close. He backs up to his bed, pulling Will down on top of him. He's stronger than Will; they both know that, but the submissive gesture isn't lost on Will either. 

Will sheds the bathrobe almost immediately, then paws at Hannibal's pants. Seeing Will nude like this feels somehow more intimate than bathing him. His pants slide off easily, leaving them both bare before each other. Will wastes no time sinking himself down onto Hannibal. His head rolls back, leaving his neck completely exposed, almost like he's trying to tempt Hannibal into taking a bite. 

"Beautiful. Like Capocchio." Hannibal breathes out. He pets up Will's sides, gripping into the flesh over his ribs with one hand. 

Will pauses. "Thinking about other men at a time like this?" There's almost a possessive hint in his tone. 

"It's a painting," Hannibal purrs. "Dante et Virgil painted by Bouguereau. I'll show you - later." 

Will's hips roll against Hannibal's, dragging a moan out of him. Hannibal can't help but imagine himself as Schicchi, biting into the hollow of Will's throat. He wishes, briefly, that they were not bound by biology and he could bite at Will as he pleased without the worry of a mating bond. Instead, he grips tight with his hands, leaving crescent shaped nail marks in Will's sides. His teeth snap together between moans, but he doesn't allow himself even the temptation of licking at Will's skin. 

"Hann-nngh," Will is cut off by his own moans when he tries to call out Hannibal's name and it is the most exquisite sound Hannibal has ever heard. 

He drives his hips up into Will, feeling the slight catch of his knot on Will's rim. Will reaches down to stroke his own leaking cock, but Hannibal pushes his hand away to replace it with his own. When he does, Will braces his own hands on Hannibal's chest. Instead of quick jerks, Hannibal moves his thumb in gentle circles around the head of Will's cock. Will nearly screams when Hannibal's knot finally locks into place. The clench of his muscles around him alerts Hannibal to his orgasm before he feels the flood of clear fluid leaking over his hand. He doesn't pull away, though. He keeps his fingers toying with Will even as he writhes and shrieks on top of him. His fingers claw down Hannibal's chest hard enough to draw long trails of blood. Hannibal groans deep in his chest, but continues forcing as much pleasure as he can from Will's body. He comes two more times before Hannibal has deflated enough that his cock slides free from him. Only then does Hannibal let go of his cock and ease him gently down to the mattress. 

Hannibal gets up and retrieves a washcloth from the bathroom, washing the insides of Will's thighs and between his cheeks while it's still warm. Before he wipes off his stomach, he drags a finger through Will's come and brings it to his mouth. The sweetness almost overwhelms him. He knows when he tastes it that he will have Will one way or another. Either willingly in his bed or unwillingly on his table, Hannibal is going to eat him. 

When he returns to bed, Hannibal curls his body tightly around Will's back and presses open mouthed kisses to the back of his neck. Will drifts to sleep in his arms, purring long after his eyes have fallen shut. The image of Bouguereau's painting stays in Hannibal's mind as he allows himself to fall asleep. He wonders if he will draw it, featuring Will and himself, or if it will make an appearance in their professional life. He wonders if perhaps then Will might realize why the scent of him was so familiar. He wonders more if Will would come back to his bed after. 

It is entirely by chance that two weeks later, Hannibal finds himself on the receiving end of a call from Jack Crawford about a case involving the abduction and murder of several women. The boy responsible isn't hard to find. He hunts in a limited area and is driven to leave the women he's killed in bodies of water where they will be found. There are only so many lakes nearby, so Hannibal waits for him. 

He looks over the scene with Will, especially proud of his handiwork. It is a near perfect recreation of Bouguereau's Abduction of Psyche. The only change being that his Cupid was quite heartless. To the right people, it is a masterpiece. The right people being himself and Will. Will, of course, knows immediately that this is the work of the Chesapeake Ripper. Hannibal knew he would. 

"He's taken hearts before, but this one feels different," Will says. "I think someone has taken his heart." 

"The Ripper is in love?" Jack sounds incredulous. 

Will shrugs. "It certainly looks that way."

"They say there's someone out there for everyone. Perhaps he has found his someone." Hannibal looks between Will's soft expression and Jack's look of disgust. 

"Do you think he'll stop?" Jack sounds worried, but Hannibal isn't sure if it's worry that the Ripper will stop or worry that he won't. 

"Maybe his someone knows who he is." Will looks up at Hannibal and for a moment Hannibal thinks he might be saying more than he is. "Or at least suspects. This could be his way of trying to tell them they're right. Seeing what they do."

"Does that mean something here will tell us who that person is?" 

"No," Will shakes his head. "He's too careful for that. It will be something small to us, but very obvious to them. An inside joke they've only ever spoken about when they're alone. They might not even have known it was special to them until they see it, but when they see it they'll know."

Hannibal's heart races listening to Will come so very close to realizing that he's talking about himself. He thinks perhaps Will does know and this is his way of toying with him. The thought alone almost pulls a purr out of his throat.

In celebration of the fact that there wouldn't be any more women turning up dead, Hannibal invites Will over for dinner. He serves a "beef" heart confit and when Will takes the first bite and moans softly, Hannibal wonders whose heart he's actually served up: Cupid's or his own? 


End file.
